


Christmas Special

by karuvapatta



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Babies, Christmas, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: Nathalie is invited for a Christmas dinner at the Agrestes'.





	Christmas Special

She needn’t have worried about how they would be received. As soon as she walked through the door, Adrien came running.

“Nathalie!”

“Hello, Adrien,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too.”

He was beaming at her with such open joy that Nathalie faltered a little. What else was she to do – hug him, perhaps? A part of her wanted to do just that. Moreover, she was sure Adrien would be delighted. But she was still uncertain about the situation, so she managed only a polite smile.

“I left the presents back in my car,” she said, awkward. “Can you—”

“I can get them for you,” said Adrien.

“Thank you,” she said. “But I was hoping you could watch over Felix instead.”

“Sure,” Adrien said lightly. He crouched down by the baby carrier and waved at Felix, who proudly showed Adrien his single-toothed smile and then laughed, delighted, when Adrien tickled his chin.

It was strange, to see the two of them like this. Adrien didn’t seem to mind, though. He unbuckled the baby and took him out of the carrier, quite content to hold him like this. And he was _humming_ to himself, bouncing Felix to the tune of a Christmas jingle.

“I’ll put him in the living room,” he said. Then he paused. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Yes, of course,” Nathalie said.

The boxes were in the trunk of her car. She didn’t get much – both Agrestes were impossible to shop for, given how rich they were, and Nathalie was notoriously bad at coming up with thoughtful gifts that would show she really cared. She wasn’t at home with emotions even when it came to expressing them, much less packing them up in neat little boxes. Now she paused, staring down at the presents. They were inadequate, that went without saying. Wouldn’t it be better to just leave them here? Stay for dinner, find an excuse to miss out on the gift-exchange—no, that would be cowardly.

She took out the two boxes and then the much larger bag of baby necessities. Balancing them all and reaching out to close the trunk was a little tricky, but she would manage. She always managed.

Adrien rushed over to help her with the boxes. He set them down beneath the Christmas tree and then glanced up, sheepishly, at the bare branches.

“I, uh,” he said. “Didn’t know where we keep the Christmas decorations,” he said. “Father didn’t know, either. He said you normally got them out.”

“Naturally,” Nathalie said, smiling despite herself. “Give me a minute.”

An effort had been made to add Christmas spirit to the mansion. Festive music helped considerably, as did the few ornaments that had to be brand new (and handmade by Marinette, more than likely). The tree had been arranged by Nathalie herself, who ordered its delivery out of habit. Divine smells were wafting from the kitchen, where the chef finalized dinner.

The only thing missing was Gabriel Agreste himself. But that wasn’t unusual.

Nathalie passed by the door to his office in her quest for the tree decorations. He didn’t show up when Adrien dragged out the ladder so that Nathalie could get to the topmost part of the tree, or when Felix started crying (not out of hunger or pain; he stopped the second Adrien scooped him out of the carrier and bounced him around). Nathalie smiled down and arranged the lights in a more pleasing manner.

“How is school?” she asked, because _How is Marinette?_ would have been too obvious.

They chatted about his classes and friends. Felix tried to keep up, babbling along and testing out syllables.

“Mama,” he tried.

“Yes, yes,” Nathalie picked him up.

Felix beamed.

“Dada!”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Adrien said cynically.

“Adrien!” Nathalie said. “Please, it’s Christmas.”

“Exactly,” Adrien shrugged, digging through the boxes in search of more ornaments. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

He was crouching down, perhaps hoping that Nathalie wouldn’t be able to see his face. And, well, she couldn’t, but the tone of voice was enough to give him away.

Felix protested when she settled him down in the carrier, but was easily distracted with the Chat Noir plushie that he liked to cuddle and, occasionally, chew. Nathalie had a ton of pictures of him doing just that, and rather enjoyed sending them to Adrian over Whatsapp.

“Give me a moment,” she said.

Nobody responded when she knocked, so she drew in a breath and pushed the door open. A very familiar sight greeted her eyes: Gabriel Agreste’s back as he stood straight before Emilie’s portrait, his eyes on her face, hands linked at the small of his back. The room was dark. Nothing had changed about it whatsoever.

Habit made her pause, and straighten, and speak out in an even, formal tone.

“Sir—”

It had slipped out. Nathalie bit her tongue, heat rushing to her cheeks.

The man turned around, eyes widened in surprise.

“Nathalie!” he said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Perhaps he really hadn’t, lost in happier memories. Nathalie was not heartless enough to begrudge him that.

“You invited me,” she said. “Adrien did, that is. But he assured me it was with your permission.”

Guilt flashed across the man’s features. He cast one last look at Emilie before walking over to her.

“I’ve told you before. You don’t need my permission to enter this house,” he said.

“Of course—” she managed to hold back the _sir_ just in time. The awkward pause in her speech hung between them just the same. “Merry Christmas, Gabriel,” she finished lamely.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

His eyes shifted, searching for an escape route. Nathalie would have given him just that but he caught her before she could move, his hands warm and steady on her waist. He was still uncertain, searching; but the kiss he pressed to her lips was anything but.

For a moment, Nathalie let herself forget everything else. Then the moment was gone.

“I can’t believe you left Adrien alone again,” she said.

“I lost track of time,” Gabriel answered. “I’m _trying,_ Nathalie. It’s not that easy.”

He sounded wretched. Nathalie run her hand through his hair and pressed her lips to his brow. Christmas was difficult for him. So were the other days: Emilie’s birthday, their wedding anniversary, her funeral. In her uncharitable moments, she was finding that the difficult days far outnumbered the good ones. But he was trying. He was making an effort.

“Let’s go downstairs,” she murmured.

Gabriel held her hand as they walked. She tried not to get used to the feeling. Then he placed it at the small of her back, examining their work on the Christmas tree.

“What’s the theme, explosion in a candy store?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Adrien said cheerfully, adding more candy canes. “They match your tie.”

“You could have kept it more tasteful,” Gabriel said. “I emailed you the sketches.”

“Did you?” Adrien asked, blinking his innocent green eyes. “Goodness me, I must have forgot. Felix seems to like it, though.”

Gabriel glanced at his other son.

“It’s shiny and he’s a baby,” he said. “They are easy to please.”

Felix stretched out his arms to the newcomer and gurgled excitedly. He really was an unbelievably sunny child – or maybe he liked the change of scenery and the amount of people willing to pay attention to him.

Gabriel Agreste was a tough crowd, but he eventually relented. He picked up the child with ease, but his stone-faced expression was making Felix uneasy. Odd, that. One would think he would be used to Nathalie’s stunted emotional range.

“Dinner should be ready by now,” Nathalie glanced at her watch.

Conversation over dinner started out awkward. Then Gabriel launched into a tirade about the incompetence of his new assistant; Nathalie had to physically restrain herself from taking notes that she would then forward to the poor woman.

She ate sparingly, unused to sitting at the same table as her boss. But it was all worth it, if only to see Adrien so happy. He even offered to try and cajole a spoonful of vegetable mush into Felix, who pressed his mouth shut and beat his little fists against the high chair in protest.

“Are you sure about this?” Adrien asked, wiping mush from his dress shirt.

“He needs variety in his diet,” Nathalie said. “My research is very clear about that. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult.”

“Maybe it’s too early,” Adrien mused.

Nathalie whipped out her tablet and found the appropriate folder.

“No, he’s six months old,” she said. “This is the right time. He’s on schedule with everything else—what?”

She glared at Gabriel, who was looking at her with an odd expression.

“I need to keep track of his progress,” she said defensively, locking the device before he could notice her height and weight charts that she updated daily and consulted with the WHO standards.

Adrien laughed. Felix laughed. Adrien used the occasion to slip the spoon in his mouth. The look of shocked betrayal on Felix’s face was quickly replaced with curiosity.

Nathalie breathed out. Then she tensed again when she felt Gabriel’s warm hand curl around her own, their fingers threading together.

“Relax,” he said. “You are doing a great job.”

She had her doubts about that. Up until the baby was born, Nathalie had been perfectly calm. She did her research. She stocked her apartment with the appropriate tools. She watched her own behaviour and diet. More than anything else, she had hoped some mystical maternal instinct would grace her the second she first held Felix in her arms. It _had_ to. But then he arrived, shrivelled and pink and screaming, and the magical moment was soured once Nathalie realized, with a sinking heart, that she had no idea what she was supposed to _do_.

Emilie breezed through the first months. She always smiled, even when baby Adrien kept her up night after night. A jealous part of Nathalie’s mind claimed that it had been easier for her; that she had Gabriel. But then another, more realistic voice pointed out that some women were suited to motherhood, and some weren’t. Nothing good ever came of trying to be something you are not.

Nathalie set down her cutlery. She closed her eyes and breathed, holding onto Gabriel’s hand.

It felt—good. Nice. Gabriel worried about her. Adrien was delighted to spend time with his half-brother. For a short while, they could be a family.

Conversation picked up, carefully neutral. They were hopeless, each and every one of them. Somehow they spiralled into Nathalie micromanaging Adrien’s schedule, _again_.

“Regular revisions are vitally important if you want to get into a good university,” she said, to which Adrien groaned.

“It’s _Christmas_.”

“I could quiz you,” Nathalie’s lip twitched.

“ _Christmas!_ ”

“No, Nathalie’s right,” Gabriel said.

Adrien glared at him, eyebrows arched.

“You dropped out of school to become a fashion designer,” he said accusingly.

“I finished school,” Gabriel said. “I dropped out of university. It’s not the same.”

“I’m the top of my class!” Adrien said. “What else do you two want from me?”

Gabriel frowned. Nathalie shifted her cutlery so that the fork and knife would be exactly parallel to one another. Adrien was looking at them, expectant, vegetable mush dripping from the plastic spoon he held up to Felix’s mouth.

“I—” Gabriel faltered. Then he took a sip of wine.

“I’ll get the deserts,” Nathalie said, standing up.

“I can help you,” Adrien said.

They cleaned up together, leaving Gabriel to take care of Felix. The baby was fussy again, his little face scrunched in a grimace. He fought Gabriel when the man tried to wipe his chin and take off the bib. By the time he was out, the impeccable suit had been sprayed with mush.

Back in the kitchen, Nathalie and Adrien loaded the dishwasher and unpacked the cakes, delivered to their doorstep courtesy of the Dupain-Chengs. The atmosphere was strained and Nathalie realized that her curt attempts at small talk were only making things worse.

“Adrien,” she said in the end, her back to the boy. “You do know that your father is very proud of you, right?”

Nothing but stubborn silence.

“And he loves you,” Nathalie pressed on. “Not because of how well you do at school, or fencing, or modelling—”

Her voice broke. She coughed to cover it.

“Anyway,” she said. “This cake looks wonderful. Did Marinette make it herself?”

It was a simple round shape, covered in red mirror glaze and black spots. Adrien couldn’t bring himself to cut it, and neither could Nathalie.

“Yeah,” Adrien said.

His green eyes had a peculiar gleam to them. But he sniffed, resolutely, and held the cake up.

“Come on,” he said. “I picked out a movie already.”

She supposed she could stay to watch. The couch was large enough that the three of them could sit comfortably without being too close to one another. Nathalie picked at her cake with a spoon, rocking Felix’s chair with the other hand. She was drowsy and comfortable, and the plot was easy to follow.

The peace lasted for an hour and a half. Felix was getting more and more irritable, however. He cooed and cried, kicking his legs, and wouldn’t be soothed even when Nathalie took him in her arms.

“I think he’s tired,” she said, frowning. Gabriel paused the movie mid-action scene, while Nathalie tried to shush her son.

Felix was crying in earnest now, his high-pitched wails disrupting the quiet evening.

“That’s it, I’m afraid,” Nathalie sighed. “We have to go home.”

“No, wait,” Adrien jumped to his feet. “You should see the nursery first! We just had it finished.”

Nathalie tensed.

“He can nap while we finish the movie,” Gabriel said.

The two Agrestes were staring at her with almost identical expressions. Seeing them on the same page was so rare that Nathalie relented.

“We can try,” she said.

They led her to one of the former guest bedrooms. It was a spacious room with massive windows, painted in light purples and whites. The crib took an honorary place in the middle of the plush carpet, lit in soft warm lights from the numerous ornate lamps.

“Father picked the theme,” Adrien said, a touch of resentment to his voice.

“I figured,” Nathalie said drily.

There were butterflies. Many, many butterflies. The lamps, the furniture, the wallpaper – everything decorated with a repeating winged pattern.

“It’s elegant,” Gabriel said in self-defence.

“Tasteless, is what it is,” Adrien said.

Nathalie carried Felix to the crib. The sheets and blankets were freshly laundered and spotlessly white; her son looked angelic swaddled in them, blinking his wide blue eyes at all the pretty lights around him. She tucked him in and stood there, a little awkwardly, aware of two pairs of eyes on her.

“He likes to listen to music when he falls asleep,” she said.

“I know,” Adrien said quite happily. There was a stereo in place, and a table that she could put her baby monitor on.

Felix dozed off quickly. Maybe he was showing off in front of his father and half-brother, because back at home it was a battle each and every time. But, no; he was the perfect little angel now, innocent and painfully adorable.

Something caught Nathalie’s attention before they left the room. There were three photographs on the dresser: two of Felix and one with all four of them. It was a bright sunny day, beginning of the school year. Gabriel had deigned to come and even managed a smile, one hand settled on Adrien’s shoulder, the other one – she couldn’t see it in the photograph, but she remembered – at the small of Nathalie’s back. Felix was only three months old but he wore a suit to match Adrien’s own, courtesy of Gabriel.

One of Adrien’s friends had taken that picture. She had no idea he had it printed.

Nathalie came back to the living room, her head spinning. It was so, _so_ easy to forget herself; to tuck her body against Gabriel’s and settle her head on his shoulder; to trade dry comments with Adrien once the movie took a rapid turn towards stupid and outlandish; to drift off—

She awoke, later, curled in Gabriel’s arms. He carried her to his bedroom, and for a long moment Nathalie lay there, unused to being so comfortable and in the company of another person. But the bed was soft, and it smelled so good; even as her every instinct screamed at her to get up and _leave_ , Nathalie couldn’t.

Gabriel was setting down her phone, tablet, and baby monitor on a night stand. Then he unbuttoned his jacket and tie, ever fussy about the clothing.

“It’ll wash off,” Nathalie said drowsily when Gabriel examined the spots of carrot mush. “I can run it by the drycleaner tomorrow.”

“It’s Christmas,” Gabriel said.

“The day after, then.”

His hand was on her shoulder; heavy, warm. Nathalie shivered.

“I should go,” she said.

“Stay,” Gabriel replied. His breath was on her cheek, soft lips pressing kisses to her brow, ear, neck— “Stay as long as you like.”

“We talked about this,” Nathalie said.

She caught his face between her hands, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin, the weight of his body on top of her own.

“And we agreed that this is acceptable,” Gabriel said. The hand he slipped beneath Nathalie’s blazer was clear enough in its intent, curving around her waist. “Stay long enough.”

She gasped and arched upwards, incapable of denying Gabriel’s desires – or, perhaps, her own.

Yes, this was acceptable. Part of the arrangement. He was the only person Nathalie had actual feelings for; she was the only woman he still trusted. Sex was inconsequential and mutually pleasurable – or, rather, it had been inconsequential before Felix, and Nathalie’s naïve decision to keep the child. As for the pleasure—

Nathalie bit her lip and tried not to think about her heavy, grotesque breasts, the stretchmarks on her stomach, the fact that she could no longer fit into her favourite dresses. Exercise and diet would get her there eventually, but between Felix and her new job, she hardly had the time for it.

Gabriel paused, his hands covering the span of her hips, his lips on their way down Nathalie’s abdomen.

“What is it?” he asked in a low voice. “You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing,” Nathalie curled her fingers in his hair.

He didn’t believe her. Gone was the purposeful way he had held her; no, he was achingly careful.

“Move in with me,” he said.

Nathalie groaned. “Not _now_ , Gabriel.”

“Why not?”

Nathalie pushed him off and propped herself up on her elbows. With his hair tousled, chest bare, and halfway down her body, Gabriel looked—was—irresistible. But she had had practice.

“We’re not doing this because you feel that we should,” Nathalie said. “It was my decision to have this child, Gabriel. And I don’t need your house, your name, _or_ your money to raise him.”

Maybe it was too harsh. Maybe. But she had heard one too many comments about how she had failed to baby-trap Gabriel Agreste; too many headlines, too many snide remarks from her former co-workers, or icy glares from Gabriel’s new assistant. None of these would hurt as much if some part of Nathalie didn’t believe they were true.

“It’s not just about Felix,” Gabriel said.

Nathalie turned away from him and pulled the cover tight around herself. Her breaths came out harsh and stuttered, but she would not give him the satisfaction of breaking down in tears.

“I’m going to stay until Felix wakes up,” she said. “Then we will go home.”

“As you wish,” Gabriel replied coldly.

Anger did not override tiredness, however. Cocooned in his sheets, Nathalie drifted in and out of sleep. She was only half-conscious when Felix first cried out, his voice coming loud and clear over the baby monitor. The poor thing had to be terrified, all alone in that room.

Nathalie tried to force her sluggish limbs to obey. Next to her, there was a rustle of fabric. Gabriel got up before she did, throwing a robe around his bare shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Let me,” he asked quietly. “He is my son, too.”

She shouldn’t have stayed. This was terrible for all four of them. It would only hurt more when it ended.

But, for a while, Nathalie could do nothing more than nod, and smile, and watch him go.


End file.
